


Brand New Moves

by 3amepiphany



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, this is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15870273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: Fukuoka.





	Brand New Moves

**Author's Note:**

> i heard "brand new moves" by hey violet and it made me wanna write something. this is it. have fun.

He wasn’t as drunk as he’d liked to have been, and that was on him, honestly. The little yatai place they had wandered into had specials on sake bombs and Victor was game, but Yuuri was happy just to have found a yatai to eat at that was within walking distance on their way back to the hotel and didn’t just serve deep-fried food or was priced for tourists. It was novel to Victor, anyhow, as he was no stranger to street-food carts or the like, but tiny pop-up restaurants like these were so new and fascinating to him. This one had legitimate walls and curtains versus the vinyl sheeting or the bare barstools, or neither of these at all, and the staff was very excited to have such an enthusiastic patron.

Yuuri had a sake bomb and something from the draft well, but by the time they’d left Victor was in two sake bombs and another shot, and he was starting to teach the cooks Russian in exchange for having shown him the delicacies of grilled chicken hearts and keel bones. “I kick myself now, thinking how much time I haven’t spent out in cities I go to,” he said to Yuuri in English, happily taking his hand and letting himself be led out of the yatai-ya once they had finished and paid their bill. It had grown dark out and Victor was in the middle of saying he couldn’t wait to take Yuuri on a tour of Moscow when he trailed off as they walked down the tiny street, full of lights and bright storefronts. And music. 

Then, Yuuri felt himself pulled back a bit - it wasn’t a rough yank, but Victor had heard something and stopped walking. He took the few steps back to close the space between them and to readjust their hand-hold, though that’s when Victor took the opportunity to swing him into a playful dip, complaining that it had been awhile since they’d last danced. It’d really only been a few days, since, Yuuri thought.

They danced there, in the street, to the music playing over a loudspeaker out of a clothing store and to a cheering group of other pedestrians and shoppers. He was buzzed and buzzing with exhilaration, the same joyful feeling that was in the pit of his stomach earlier that day, taking home top scores for regionals and securing his place for higher competition. Was any of this happening? It was hard to tell. The new season was underway and this was where all of his hard work certainly went but where did that time go? What was he doing here in this glitzy shopping district in Fukuoka, shuffling sheepishly down the sidewalk with the man he wasn’t sure of whether he wanted to be or to beat out or to fuck? The lights swirled and he laughed as Victor hoisted him up by the waist in a hug, and brought him back down again after a spin, and there was a chaste kiss on the cheek in it for him for sticking the landing, which surprised him. With a mirrored ball change cross that was electrifyingly organic if a little loose and sloppy, Yuuri realized that they’d fallen into the step sequence for Victor’s last free skate - Minako no doubt would have been impressed with how quickly he had been able to flip the steps. Hell. He was fully impressed with himself. Victor seemed nonplussed but there was a brilliant smile on his face and he kept it going, so there had to be something there, too.

It hit him suddenly that they were likely being filmed. He started to let hesitation break his stride and before he knew it, they were stumbling into more drunken onlookers, and offering drunken apologies, and drunkenly excusing themselves to shuffle down the street to get back to their hotel block and finish their night. There was some applause behind them as the crowd broke as well, and Yuuri wrapped his arm around the waist of his coach to keep him from stopping and holding back again.

Arriving at the hotel safely, giggling like a couple of children and wiggling about like a pair of puppies, they boarded the first elevator that opened its doors for them, and it was then that Victor hugged him again, his heavy sigh hot against the side of Yuuri’s face and in his ear. There was a hand, sneaking into his back pocket, and cupping at his ass through it. It sent him into a small panic and he could feel his posture stiffen at it, much in the same way he’d stiffened against the hug from behind that Victor had given him at the rink. 

“Yuuri, Yuuri. You’ve won the day and you’ll be on top of the world soon,” Victor told him, in his slurred, accented English. “You might... even... top me.”

The elevator rolled to a stop at their floor and the door opened. Victor pulled his hand away and out of Yuuri’s pants pocket, revealing that he’d snagged their keycard and waving it about as he half-shuffled and half-danced out of the carriage and down the hall, the blush on his face more pronounced now. Yuuri could feel the heat across his own cheeks as he followed him out of the elevator. The taller man did a bit of a twirl, landing and sort of leaning against the wall and door jamb once they had reached their room, and Yuuri stood there, fairly entertained and a little exasperated at trying to figure out if Victor was being coy with the key and the lock, or if he really was just that drunk. But finally the key slid in, the lock opened, and so did the door. They found on the bureau a fruit basket, a few arrangements of roses in beautiful vases, and two bottles of champagne and some fluted glasses.

“These weren’t here when we left,” Yuuri mused, taking his jacket off.

Victor had gone right up to his bed and simply fallen on it instead of taking his usual jump, and he wriggled out of his coat, laying there underneath it. “Gifts,” he said, muffled.

Cards left with the items indicated yes, they were gifts from fans that had been delivered to their room. Some were for Victor. Though the champagne was from the hotel. And it was room-temperature. So he quickly undid the foil on one of the bottles and wrestled with the cage and cork just enough to pop it all open without much of a fuss.

From the bed, Victor had rolled over and was watching him, wide-eyed. “You’re so good at that. How do you do that? I always make a mess. I get too excited.”

Yuuri stifled a laugh, but Victor couldn’t. He lay there giggling, loosening his tie and then bringing it up around his forehead and tightening it there. “I am so very proud of you,” he finally said as Yuuri poured them each a glass and settled onto the bed next to him. “Not to be rough on your last choreographer, especially if it was Minako, and not to put me above that person at all, but I think all you needed was some brand new moves.”

“I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Oh, you can’t!”

“I can. And I will.” Yuuri shifted as Victor pushed himself up enough to take a glass and drink from it without spilling it everywhere. They took a moment to clink them together carefully, in celebration, before drinking down the contents; Yuuri aware that Victor was watching him as he couldn’t swallow the champagne fast enough, anxious still from the hand in his pocket, the kiss and the dancing, and wondering if what he was about to do next was the stupidest career move he’d ever make after dropping off the edge of the world for a season and if it would make him want to fall off the edge of the world all over again. He licked at his lips and breathed in sharply, and watched Victor take another small sip - because of course he was only sipping, Yuuri, you idiot - and sit up fully, the end of the tie swinging down and nearly dropping into his glass. 

“To be very fair to you, however,” Victor said, slurring a bit, “you had the moves. You tried them out, they worked. You just needed to do something substantial with them.”

This confused him.

Victor rolled the glass stem between his fingers a few times. “To show people that you meant business. That you weren’t just teasing or playing at the idea. You said earlier that you felt the crowd was lackluster, but Yuuri, it was just because they couldn’t do anything but watch, they were entranced by you. I was… very proud of you for that.”

 _You were entranced as well,_ Yuuri thought. He looked down at his own empty glass, but after a moment he murmured, “I only did as you told me.”

Without asking aloud what that was, Victor prompted him onward with a small gesture of his glass. The champagne still in it kissed the edge, and he fumbled it back gently without spilling a drop.

“To seduce you.”

Victor’s cheeks seemed to bloom as red as the roses on the bureau at this, and there was such a silence between the two skaters that Yuuri had to get up and pour himself another glass of champagne. He had to. What else could he do?! Besides actually lean forward and follow through on that! It crossed his mind so vividly in those few moments that it might as well have happened. He took a drink and then bent his leg slightly to start untying his shoe to take it off, when he he heard a soft sigh behind him. A peek over his shoulder allowed him to see Victor getting up to put his coat on a hanger in the tiny closet before he crossed the room to sit in the chair in the far corner, placing his glass on the table there. Victor undid the first few buttons on his shirt, and reached up to pull some of his hair out from under the necktie still around his forehead. He hadn’t changed out of his suit since they’d left the rink, opting to stay pressed and professional for their evening out. Yuuri instead had showered and decided he was more than okay crawling back into a set of comfortable street clothes, which he was currently also more than okay with crawling into bed still wearing at this point in the conversation. Was it a conversation? What was this?? What was it, if not a conversation? A missed opportunity?

It certainly would have been had he not pulled a rose from one of the vases and downed his second glass of champagne entirely, turning to Victor just as he’d started to go on idly about how they ought to curb the stiffness in his program before the next competition and stopping him mid-sentence. He bit down on the rose stem and posed, almost as if he were going to work on the piece then and there, but became aware enough of the leaves and the dangerous closeness of a thorn close to the corner of his mouth that he nearly forgot all about what he was doing, and couldn’t bring himself to move.

Victor sat there waiting, the grin on his face growing even wider as the moments passed.

It wasn’t Eros that he stepped into once he did begin moving, though. It was something wholly different. Where Eros was a splashy seduction, flippant and full of intensity and seeking to spark a jealous yearning, a heavy lean on trying to turn the sound of a siren’s song into something just as pleasing to the eyes... this was very carnal and deliberate, and intimate. It wasn’t a lover playing with her many suitors over the course of a single evening so much as it was her settling on the one she knows she will spend many with and laying her attentions and her affections solidly in their lap. And he felt that - he felt like this was no longer a cat-and-mouse sort of game that relied on teasing and jealousy and quick desires but one where there was a real prize to be had, and now that it was within his grasp he still had to show that he wanted it and deserved it, and that it was his alone and no one else’s. There may not have been any music playing aloud but he did have a good beat in his mind, and with that Yuuri let himself twist and weave about to tell this other story, approaching Victor in the chair.

He took his glasses off first, and Victor thankfully caught them and put them on the table as he loosely tossed them to him. Then there was the rose, and he carefully leaned down enough for Victor to take that from him - not with his mouth as he’d hoped, but just simply and gently plucking it out and away, quietly.

 _No missed opportunity here,_ he told himself. This was a wide-open shot and he was going to take it, odds be damned and against him. _I may never get to skate Olympic ice but I’ll at least be able to say I got this close._

He gyrated his hips slowly as he took his jeans off, mostly so he wouldn’t fall over trying to do so and managed to stay upright well enough. His shirt hem he played with, stretching it down and over the curve of his ass and then letting it go to play with the hems of his boxer briefs, pulling and tugging at those as if he were going to remove his underwear completely. This dance continued for several more minutes until Yuuri felt confident enough to turn around to face Victor and, spurred on by how rapt the older man appeared in watching this stupid, terrible life decision (at least from what he could tell without his glasses on), lower himself down onto his knees before Victor and allowing his thighs to slowly spread out under him bit by bit, his back to arch and his arms to stretch out languidly to his sides and then up over his head. He could feel his shirt riding up along his stomach, baring him there, and his boxer briefs stretching across him in such a deliciously _good_ way, and he exhaled loudly, with a small groan.

And that’s when he felt a tickle at his stomach.

Bringing himself up with a small, surprised noise he saw that Victor had leaned forward in the chair just enough to reach him with the rose. As his shirt fell back down, though, the rose fell away, too, brushing against his crotch as it went. He pulled himself all the way back up to a kneeling position and came forward, placing his hands on Victor’s knees and then up along his thighs and letting his fingers and palms play and palm at the bulge that was growing there under Victor’s slacks, and staring up at him the whole time, wordlessly daring him to commit to this as much as he himself had. In the silence, he thought about Victor’s hands sliding up the backside of his knee and thigh and along his hip and side weeks, months ago, in the bathhouse as the older man used such a persuasive but elegant strength to lift his leg up and stretch and lengthen him into an arabesque, naked, slick with sweat from the heat of the spring, and fully exposed, yet still not being as handsy about it as Yuuri was being with him now, and how that was such a shock but he couldn’t not let it happen. Professionally, Victor was deliberate. Sensual, but deliberate. He wanted to be that and he wanted to have that, both for so long - in his own career and in his private life.

Or… was he reading the man wrong this whole time? Awkward intimacy was nothing new to him but that was with someone of a different sex, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe they shouldn’t just be getting right down into this physically - where was that hesitation coming from? What was this hesitation from Victor now? This was well underway and it wasn’t bad or unwanted at all. It was very wanted. By both of them, or at least he imagined.

He was ready to stop at any second but he couldn’t deny himself any longer of the fact that he had to own the one dance he just gave and the game he just succeeded at with the other and what he did with these: flipping the table on one of the sexiest skaters in possibly ever. 

As he tried to tamp his drunken panic down, Victor sat back fully in the chair, tapping and rubbing the rose against Yuuri’s face with such a pleased and pleasing smile on his own, and it was then that Yuuri realized that Victor was definitely enjoying all of the attentions and affections that were being laid in his lap. The rose traced across his lips and he let his mouth open just enough that he could feel Victor tense excitedly under him. He moved his hands up and over Victor’s hips, bunching what free fabric of his slacks there was to pull at and suddenly feeling very greedy as Victor shifted to start undoing his belt and buttons. It was much like the key in the door, though, and Yuuri helped him, laughing a little, and nervously. Victor whispered curses in Russian under his breath, but he too, gave a small laugh, and then a subdued moan as Yuuri took him in hand.

Yuuri’s face felt hot, and Victor’s cock in his hand felt hot too, and he became oddly aware of how the carpet under his knees felt and how his own growing erection was pushing against the chair, and how he still had his socks on and how it was the medalist and widely-celebrated Victor Nikiforov that he was about to blow - there was no doubt there, that was very much what he found himself wanting at the moment - and how beautiful he was here… those sharp and brilliant eyes of his so muted and dark in the dim light of a single lamp in the corner by their beds and from his own drunken anticipation; his gorgeous hair still a bit silly in spots from that necktie, and his neck and his chest as blushed as those ridiculous cheekbones underneath that half-opened dress shirt… _Wow, just. Wow._ And as his eyes came back down to it, gosh, even his dick was beautiful. He leaned his head down and gave it a kiss near the tip. Just a soft one, tentative, and Victor shifted some more under him so he could do it again. He did. And then he licked at it lightly, and was happy to hear a quiet gasp at that. 

He wanted to be gentle and yet he also wanted to just take it all in now and at this very second; his mouth watered at the thought. Instead, he sighed, resolved himself in the hesitation, in all of it, just pushed it all away and claimed his prize and told himself that he’d fully and honestly earned this, and nuzzled his face into Victor’s crotch and inhaled, the folds of fabric around him muffling a moan that escaped him and the supple skin there against his chin and cheeks and lips hot and so, so worth the effort he’d made and the effort he was making at the time to keep it slow. Victor smelled so good and he absolutely loved it; faintly of how he would at and after a long practice, and surprisingly, Yuuri’s own soap. And of course, some of the beer that had splashed everywhere during their sake bombs at dinner.

The soap was an interesting one though and he breathed in again before tilting his head back up and giving Victor a bit of a knowing glance. Surreptitious didn’t seem to be a word in the man’s dictionary.

He licked at the base of Victor’s cock, and pressed more little kisses at the skin there and below, using his free hand to pull at the pair of slacks and work them and the simple cotton boxers out from under Victor’s ass so he could kiss at his hips and everywhere else. Yuuri looked up at Victor again before leaning back just enough to take his own shirt off, eager to feel as much of him against his own skin as he could and eager to see what he looked like sitting there, nearly fully hard now. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward again to rest his arms atop the other’s bare thighs, and to take his dick in hand again. He let his thumb roll across the little ridges of skin on the underside of the tip, and pressed his tongue flat against him down towards the base, and licked up, long and just a little slobbery, up until he reached where his thumb was. He went back down in a trail of kisses that had a bit of a sucking action to them and those drew such a sound from Victor that he did it all over again, this time rubbing his thumb up and over the tip and feeling him tense and hearing his breath catching. The silence there was louder than anything else in that room. Even his own heartbeat.

Over and over he went, working up more spit to use but trying not to let it pool and getting more and more excited about each different little noise Victor would make as he played with him, licking and kissing and letting his hands press and squeeze and move. He did everything he knew he liked when it came to himself, and not a word about it otherwise came from Victor. Victor, actually, had covered his face with one hand and the wider end of the necktie, and was gripping the arm of the chair with his other had, and in between his fingers he was staring at Yuuri, watching him have his fun. They locked eyes for a few moments, Yuuri’s lips paused against him, feeling each twitch, and it was then that Yuuri felt he could take the next step with this and make sure Victor appreciated him and the stupid attraction he’d held for him for so long and everything he was doing for the sake of it.

The arch of his hips that the man held back on! Yuuri could feel it and he anticipated having to move back and away from the movement clearly enough. 

“I’m sorry, love,” Victor murmured, and Yuuri found himself oh so lit up by the sound of his voice. It was rough, desperate and deep. “Don’t… don’t stop. Just excited.”

He tried again, this time with one hand wrapped right around where he thought he might be comfortable taking Victor’s dick up to, fingers delicately playing with the underside and the backs of the fingers of his free hand brushing and rubbing against Victor’s balls. It worked well. He had a mouthful, but he also had room to breathe and a good buffer should the over-excitement get a hold of Victor once more. He was big. Long, and big, and Yuuri loved how he sort of tapered towards the tip. Not too much, but it was noticeable and it created a curve that sat on his tongue in a delightfully just-so sort of way. Nearly every fantasy he’d ever had flooded to the forefront of his mind and how he could put shape and sound and smell and feel to all of them now, wondrously. The thought of this pretty cock pounding into him made his stomach warp in upon itself and a shiver go down his spine, and he groaned, and Victor moaned right back at him loudly, repeating his name. He came off of Victor’s cock with a wet ‘pop’ and a string of spittle on his lower lip, and went down again, taking him just a little deeper, pumping his hand and letting it meet at his lips before pulling his head back again.

Embarrassingly it was really all he knew to do without much more practice, which he hoped he could have later; eventually though he worked into a rhythm that phased out the popping and just kept Victor in his mouth entirely. It was slick, sloppy, and a downright mess, but he was enjoying it, rutting himself against the chair for lack of the coordination just yet that would have let him jerk himself off. He’d have to finish himself off in a few minutes, though: Victor let him know he was close to coming. As inarticulate as it was, he’d huffed it out while putting a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and stretching a leg out suddenly.

He came hard, biting at the hand that he’d still had covering his face and pushing the whole of his upper body against the back of the chair, his hips jerking a bit as every muscle tightened and every joint seemed to lock up. The feel of him spurting into the back of Yuuri’s throat still surprised him, and he did gag and have to pull away with a cough. He could feel Victor spilling over his hands and now dribbling down his chin, and he sort of just let himself lean forward into Victor’s lap, wriggling his hips against the chair for a few moments before finally freeing a hand to just reach into his boxer briefs and catch up while Victor relaxed and settled back into his body from orbit. Yuuri let himself go with a soft cry, and when he unscrewed his eyes he saw Victor watching him, mouth agape now and still breathing heavily, hands feeling at his stomach and thighs and after some time commenting on the mess there, alluding again to the champagne bottle with the mention of giving a good shake.

“I can make a mess when I want to,” Yuuri said, laying himself flat out on the floor and grimacing as he unfolded his legs out from under him. He still had his hand in his boxers.

“You can do anything when you want to. That dance was good. It would lend itself really well to… say. A pole-dance.”

He made a face and laughed. “A pole-dance? Please.”

Victor laughed too, and set about trying to get out of the chair. “Okay,” he said. “I think. Bathroom. Bed. We have our train back to Hasetsu in the morning and I’m already dreading the hangover.”

“I think a bowl of katsudon could fix that right up,” Yuuri said, the thought of having his favorite meal again after so long suddenly throwing everything else out the window in terms of attention at the moment.

“I might want an early breakfast now that I’ve gotten my taste for it,” Victor said, his shirt and hair disheveled and his body bent a little awkwardly. He drank the last of the champagne that had been in his glass and dangled the rose over Yuuri’s belly and chest for a second before dropping it and shuffling into the bathroom.

Yuuri lay there, not quite ready to get up. _A pole-dance? Really?_ What a weird suggestion. He’d never pole-danced in his life. Well. Unless he could count Victor’s pole. Just now. And that thought sent him rolling over onto his side, cheeks likely beet-red again. He wanted to cover his face with his hands so badly in that moment and managed well enough not to.

These ‘brand new moves’ were bringing a whole lot more to the floor with them, it seemed.


End file.
